


Searching For Forever

by adamwhatareyouevendoing



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, they are happy and together and alive and no one can convince me of anything different
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamwhatareyouevendoing/pseuds/adamwhatareyouevendoing
Summary: To Drummond’s relief, Alfred is still at the restaurant when he arrives, despite the late hour.Fix-it for 2x08, where Drummond gets to attend his 'engagement'.





	Searching For Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Because obviously it was just a crowd of happy people outside Parliament (no farmers!) and Drummond headed to the restaurant to be with Alfred. 
> 
> I love these boys so much, and I will never give them up <3

To Drummond’s relief, Alfred is still at the restaurant when he arrives, despite the late hour. He rushes over to him, unable to be parted for another moment longer. The bitterness with which they separated last time feels like a distant memory, but there had still been a lingering doubt in his mind that Alfred might choose not to return, despite the confidences of his letter.

As he did the first time, he presses his hand to Alfred’s shoulder by way of greeting.

“Sorry I’m late,” he murmurs, taking his seat opposite. He allows himself a moment to treasure the sight of Alfred in front of him, allowing the stress of the day to seep from his bones and find some small comfort in simply being in Alfred’s presence once more.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” Alfred admits, but he sounds relieved, rather than accusatory. “I thought you might be angry with me.”

“Never,” Drummond says, and it’s true. Even after their disagreement the last time they met here, he had been more upset, not angry; afraid that he had misinterpreted Alfred’s feelings after all. “I couldn’t get away from the House,” he explains. “It went to the vote.”

“How did it go?” Alfred asks, almost as though he is afraid to hear the result.

“It passed,” Drummond says, with no small amount of relief.

“Well, that is something to celebrate, then,” Alfred says, giving Drummond a small smile and lifting his glass. It feels like a reprieve.

“Champagne again?” Drummond notes, as he clinks his glass with Alfred’s.

Alfred hums in agreement. “To apologise,” he says, and looks nervously down at the table. “I didn’t mean what I said, last time.”

“Which bit?” Drummond asks, and hates the slightly accusatory tone in his voice. He is not here to argue again. He had understood Alfred's argument last time, despite railing against it, but he has returned to tell him that he doesn't care. This time he intends to reiterate his point and not leave the restaurant until Alfred agrees.

“All of it,” Alfred murmurs. When he looks up again his eyes are shining.

Drummond knows that expression—had seen it etched on his face that evening in Scotland. He now understands it means exactly what he thought it did. Alfred loves him. Now he knows he has it, he refuses to lose it.

Before he can reply, a waiter arrives at their table with the promised oysters. Alfred offers up the tray and Drummond takes hold of one of the shells. Alfred does the same. They do not break eye contact as they swallow.

“I’m glad you came,” Alfred says quietly.

“Well, someone told me I had to experience the oysters,” Drummond smiles. “You were right. They were worth it.”

“Good,” Alfred says, though his answering smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You didn’t just come for the oysters though, did you?” He sounds genuinely nervous to hear the answer, and Drummond wishes he could reach across the table and hold his hand to reassure him. He hopes Alfred can read it in his eyes anyway.

“Of course not,” he says. “I came for you.” He has no intention of disguising what he wants, not anymore. His inaction and indecision has already cost them years of happiness together, and he will not waste another second. “Nothing has changed since the last time we were here. I still want what I wanted then.”

Alfred looks around them quickly to check that no one is within earshot. He turns back to Drummond and lowers his voice. “I want it too,” he says simply. “I want you.”

“Then why —?” Drummond says, the words sticking in his throat, along with the sting of rejection that still burns there.

“I thought I was doing what was best for you,” Alfred admits, his gaze dropping briefly to the table, as though he is ashamed. “But you were right, what’s best for you is your decision. Not mine. Not your family’s.” He looks up at Drummond again. “It has to be yours.”

Drummond smiles, unable to hide his joy at the thought they might have actually made it. “Then you know what my decision is.”

“I do,” Alfred says, and his answering smile contains all the dizzying relief that Drummond feels too. A flash of guilt passes across Alfred’s face. “It was never my intention to make you doubt how I feel about you. You know that, don’t you?”

Drummond is quiet for a moment. Alfred’s words from the other day come back to him easily—they have haunted his every waking moment since he heard them. But Alfred is so earnest, looking at him now, that he cannot bring himself to admit that he had doubted it until Alfred sent the letter. It had reassured him that Alfred wanted nothing more than to reach across the chasm between them and bring them close once more. He will never allow anything to come between them again.

“I do,” he says, and it is worth it to see Alfred’s relieved smile. “No indiscretion has ever felt like this.” He quirks an eyebrow in suggestion.

“Let’s get out of here,” Alfred murmurs hurriedly. Drummond laughs quietly at the expression on his face. Alfred returns the tease by lowering his voice so that even Drummond can barely hear him, but he can read the words clearly on his lips. “I need to kiss you again.”

Drummond downs his champagne and gestures for the bill so quickly it is almost comical. He treasures Alfred’s wide unguarded smile.

 

* * *

 

They exit the restaurant, brushing against each other deliberately as they descend the steps to the pavement, covering it with an exaggerated laugh and steadying hand on the other’s shoulder. To anyone watching they simply appear tipsy—there is nothing scandalous to behold.

“My rooms are closer,” Drummond murmurs, close to Alfred’s ear, and they waste no time in hurrying through the streets. It is late, and they meet barely another soul on their walk. To those they do pass they look like two gentlemen returning home from their club on an ordinary night, not two men joyously beginning their future together.

As soon as Drummond’s door is closed behind them, Alfred rushes forwards into his arms. They remain there for long moments, taking all the comfort they have needed from one another over the last few weeks apart.

Eventually Alfred turns his head to press a fervent kiss to Drummond’s neck, just below his ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles against his skin, peppering apologetic kisses across the underside of his jaw. “I never meant —”

“I know,” Drummond says, pulling away from Alfred just far enough to see his face. “I know.” He brushes a gentle hand across Alfred’s cheek when tears threaten to fall.

“I just didn’t want you to look back, years down the line, and regret it,” Alfred whispers. “Regret choosing me.”

“Never,” Drummond assures him. “I could never regret it, for the same reason I knew I could never love Florence.” Alfred’s eyes hold all the hope he remembers seeing at the lakeside in Scotland, waiting to see if Drummond would kiss him. Once again, Drummond can hold back no longer. The truth of everything he wants is right in front of him. “I love you.”

The tears finally drop onto Alfred’s cheeks as he trembles in Drummond’s arms. Drummond leans forwards to kiss them from his skin, brushing his thumbs tenderly across Alfred’s cheeks to wipe the remaining wetness away.

Alfred’s gaze doesn’t leave his lips, still shining with his tears. At long last, he leans in and their lips meet for the first time in weeks. They both sigh their relief into each other’s mouths, kissing desperately this time. Their kisses at the lakeside had been a quiet unfurling, a realisation of years of yearning. This kiss is a promise that no matter how many more years pass, they will always have each other.

They break apart after breathless moments, panting shallowly.

“I love you too,” Alfred murmurs desperately, pressing his lips to Drummond’s again as though he intends to sear the words there.

“Good,” Drummond smiles, pulling him close once more. Even as they kiss his hands work at Alfred’s jacket and waistcoat, undoing the buttons and sliding the fabric off his shoulders to drop the garments to the floor.

Alfred’s hands return the touch, pulling Drummond’s shirt off as well and showering kisses across the expanse of skin revealed to him. Not to be outdone, Drummond untucks Alfred’s shirt and encourages his lips away from his skin for long enough to tug it over his head. Alfred wastes no time into returning to press kisses along Drummond’s collarbone.

“Tickles,” he laughs quietly, and Alfred smiles up at him. He uses the momentary distraction to pull Alfred up his body so that he can press their lips together again.

“I meant what I said at the restaurant,” Alfred says when they draw apart, into the space between their lips. “I want you. In every way.”

Drummond pulls back to meet his eyes. He understands his meaning clearly. “I want it too,” he murmurs, pressing his hand to Alfred’s chest, above his heart. “Shall we?” he dares to ask, waiting desperately for Alfred’s agreement.

At Alfred’s small nod and reassuring smile, he takes his hand and leads him into the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

They wake the next morning, still wrapped in each other’s arms. Alfred drops a kiss to Drummond’s chest. Drummond looks down at him, watching the way the light of the early dawn tangles in his hair. He is struck, not for the first time, by how beautiful Alfred is.

“Morning,” Alfred hums against his skin, drawing him out of his reverie.

“Morning, love,” Drummond replies softly, tightening his arm around him.

“Still no regrets?” Alfred asks quietly, looking up at him, but there is no trace of doubt in his own voice.

Drummond smiles, brushing a gentle finger across Alfred’s lips. “None,” he assures him.

Alfred leans up to press a relieved kiss to his lips. “What do we do now?”

“You should return to the palace.” Alfred begins to shake his head but Drummond continues before he can misunderstand him. “Only to pack your things. Then return here. I must go to the office.”

“Are you certain?” Alfred asks.

“Yes,” Drummond says simply. “Although the vote passed, I don’t think our government will hold. Peel is going to resign. No matter what happens, I’ll no longer be his Private Secretary. I don’t think it’ll be too difficult to leave too, in the circumstances.”

“And your fiancée?” Alfred whispers.

Drummond is quiet for a moment. He knows that breaking off his engagement will be more difficult than leaving his career behind, after everything, but he also knows it is of far more importance.

“I know we can’t stay in London, after I do this.” He can read the fear in Alfred’s eyes. “But I will not regret it. She is young, she will find someone else. Surely she deserves to find love too? Real love, like I have?”

Alfred finds he cannot argue with that. “Real love,” he agrees.

Drummond smiles brightly at the words, pressing another kiss to Alfred’s lips. “I’ll meet you back here this evening. We’ll leave tonight. Tell no one.”

Alfred nods. He understands the importance of what they are about to do. “Where will we go?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Drummond says honestly. “I don’t care. France? Scotland?” Alfred smiles at the thought. “Wherever. As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter.”

Alfred leans in to kiss him once more. This kiss holds every promise for their future together. They can be happy, at last.

 


End file.
